


Sleep is for the Brave

by byelervevo (orphan_account)



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bad Dreams, Dark Thoughts, M/M, Nightmares, bill misses georgie, death mention, stan can't remember why he's so terrified of the dark now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 06:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/byelervevo
Summary: Bill gets nightmares, but so does StanBased on @pastelstanuris's headcanons about Stenbrough + Nightmares





	Sleep is for the Brave

Bill gets nightmares, but he doesn’t call them that. To him, nightmares are things that aren’t real, and he’d lose all of his teeth and show up to school in his underwear if it meant he could have his brother back, if he could have five minutes with his brother back. The images flash through his head at night and he wakes up crying, but they’re not nightmares because these dreams are real and vivid and he can remember the moments leading up to his dreams and he can remember the moments after his dream, past where he usually wakes up in a cold sweat. He remembers these moments and he brings his knees up to his chest and cries because he hates himself for remembering and hates himself for trying to forget because those are the last memories he’s got of his brother, of Georgie and

“You okay?” Stan asks him, and Bill realizes that Stan’s been at his side, fingers sorting through his hair this entire time. He leans into the touch and shuts his eyes.

When he opens them again, he sees Stan’s eyes, illuminated but not not by any light in the room, and he doesn’t look at Bill with pity, but some other feeling; Bill decides to call the feeling  _ love _ , and adores how his heart does flips in his chest. “Yeah,” No, he’s not, and frankly he doesn’t think he ever will be again. But he looks at Stan and the understanding in his eyes and it’s like Stan knows what he means.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks at the clock and shakes his head, falling onto his elbows, ‘No thanks, I just want to forgetー” he can’t forget the dream, it’s branded in his mind, and in his parents’ voices whenever he calls, and in the faces of his friendsー not the ones from Derry but the ones from his Creative Writing courseー as he tells them that he used to have a younger brother. Used to. He looks back at the clock and realizes that he’s been like this for three minutes now, and he squeezes Stan’s hand to remind both of them that he’s still there. “ーI just want to go to bed.”

Stan nods and they fall back together like jigsaw pieces. Legs tangle with legs, Bill’s head on Stan’s chest; His hand moves to Bill’s back, running up and down his bare spine and causing Bill’s back to erupt with tiny goosebumps at the touch. It’s a feeling he’s grown to love, and misses it whenever Stan stays up late to work on a project, or they’re fighting and he stays with Eddie and Richie, or even when he’s in English and Stan’s in Comm and Bill just realizes that he misses Stan, right then and there, the feeling of familiar hands against the skin of his skin, is something he longs for, and it’s a feeling that has earned him a reputation in the poetry club, much to Stan’s disdain.

“Goodnight, Bill.” Stan murmurs. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” Bill says, “Goodnight, Stan.”

 

* * *

 

Stan gets nightmares too, but they’re worse (or, at least to him they are). But he’ll never tell Bill that, because what is there to tell? Bill can remember his nightmares. They’re tangible thoughts that he can articulate, even hold in his hands whenever they’re particularly bad, and Bill gets out of bed to fish out the yellow raincoat that is much too small now, and has a different name embroidered inside, and he simply holds it and stares out the window until Stan can coax him to bed. But with Stan’s nightmares, they’re different because all he can do is yell and scream and thrash and scratch and claw because he doesn’t know what else to do! He sees darkness, and it’s a terrifying darkness that lingers but doesn’t change, that makes him think that this dream isn’t so dream like at all. It feels like a memory. And then his face burns, and he wants do something but he can’t, and he’s so alone and he’s almost glad, because part of him feels like (or maybe remembers?) that he’s alone for some reason, that they left him like this, and the scariest part to him is that not all of him is scared anymore, because he’s alone and he has a feeling that he’s going to die and he’s not scared but he  _ knows _ that he should be and that’s what terrifies him, and that’s what wakes him up, not Bill’s tight grip on his wrists and his legs on either side of his body as his eyes search Stan’s for anything.

Stan’s screaming, he realizes, and he’s screaming and it takes him a second but he realizes he’s saying words, a sentence that has lost it’s meaning due to how many times he’s said it, but he repeats it again, and again, and again,  _ you left me in neibolt! You left me in neibolt, you left me in neibolt, you left me inneibolt youleftme in neiboltyouleftmeinneiboltyouleftmeyouleftmeyoul e f t m e ! _

Bill’s not straddling his torso anymore, but he’s sitting on the bed with fear in his eyes and Stan watches his hands shake as he feels his own fingers at his face. Then he feels a burning around his face and he’s scratching at his scars, not remembering how he got them but thinking back to the dead fear in his stomach, and Bill’s shaking hands grab his wrists again and kisses them, whispering for him to please calm down, that he’s sorry, and Stan doesn’t even know why he’s sorry, he doesn’t know why he’s scare but he is, and he’s already forgotten about the dream but he can’t forget about the feeling of dread which has found its way inside him, settled into his brain, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it out, no matter how much he tries to cover it up with school, and friends, and Bill, and life. He has poison in his system, and it’s only a matter of time before it spreads to the people he cares about and that thought pulls him from bed, body trembling as he reaches for the bedroom door and flings himself into the living room, turning the light on and pacing across the floor.

He doesn’t go back into their bedroom, but Bill leans against the doorway until Stan looks at him and then he’s moving towards him, holding him close against his body. He’s not shaking, neither of them are, but when Bill asks him what’s wrong, Stan’s mouth goes dry. Bill kisses each of his fingers, his palms, his wrists, before travelling up to his cheeks, kissing away the tears, and finally his scars because apparently they’re bleeding by how much Stan’s clawed at them, but he doesn’t feel the blood running down his face until he sees it on Bill’s lips. Bill pulls away and looks at him, and Stan sees that his eyes are tear stained as well.

“You ready to g-g-go to bed?”

Stan shakes his head, words still failing him as Bill nods. They’ve done this before, and each time they never talk, but that doesn’t stop Bill from trying, and that doesn’t stop Stan from being thankful for his persistence, his love, for  _ him _ . Bill puts something on TV, neither of them know what the show is and they don’t care, it just has to be loud and bright and it is so they watch it. Stan doesn’t even consider falling asleep until the shadows begin to melt underneath the glow of morning creeps through their window. Bill is still awake too, and his hands tangle through Stan’s hair the entire time. They stay like this, completing each other, until their alarm echoes from the other room, and even then Bill doesn’t dare move until Stan gets up and offers to get it, inviting Bill to join him in the shower too. In the shower, Stan feels home and he looks at Bill like he’s the sun and Bill looks right back at him like he’s the sky, and Stan calls this unspoken feeling love, and while it doesn’t destroy the poison inside him, it chips away at the dread in his heart. He smiles as Bill begins to wash his hair, and he does the same to Bill’s hair. And Stan decides that they’re not okay, they might not always be this happy, but these moments of ignorant bliss will just have to be enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ stenbroughvevo for more fics, currently open for requests! (:


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